


A day with Herman

by mynameisnotthepoint



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: David is done, Druck is a comedy, Hans is done, Jonas is a little shit, M/M, Matteo is a little shit, Moderate drinking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a clothes-stealing boyfriend, and so is this fic, dumbasses being dumbasses, featuring a poor piece of started dough, friendship shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotthepoint/pseuds/mynameisnotthepoint
Summary: A comical anecdote with an irritated Hans, some Jonas & Matteo dumbassery and a sweater that is stolen not once, but twice. Also featured: a very innocent piece of sourdough starter by the name of Hermann.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David (Druck)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	A day with Herman

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Ein Tag mit Hermann](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431603) by [mynameisnotthepoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotthepoint/pseuds/mynameisnotthepoint). 



> Author’s/Translator’s note: First of all, as you’ve probably seen, this is a translation from the German. I am German and try to write my Druck fics in German, just as practice. This is my first real attempt at writing comedy. Some of it might be lost in translation, but I’ve done my very best to find equivalents or at least similarly executed jokes. 
> 
> One thing you should know before reading is that in this fic a sourdough starter by the name of Hermann plays a big role. [Herman cake](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herman_cake) (or _Hermannteig_ in German) is a friendship cake where you get a piece of sourdough starter, feed it for several days, and then share pieces with your friends. Apparently it used to be very popular. I took the use of it very loosely, but you can read up on it if you like! 
> 
> Thank you for takíng your time to read this, and let’s get cooking (or baking, although the guys don’t really manage to do that either in this fic).

_I had a thought, dear_

_However scary_

_About that night_

_The bugs and the dirt_

The doorbell’s loud ring travels through the apartment. Matteo closes his eyes for a moment and buries his head in David’s neck. Again, the doorbell rings. From the kitchen comes a rather irritated _Matteo, one of your lost sons is at the door_ ; with a sigh, he gets up to press the buzzer.

With heavy footfalls, Jonas comes up the stairs. He has a container in his hands and Matteo already knows what it is: a portion of _Herman_ cake. The reason why they’re meeting up. 

It’s all because of the most recent party they had attended. They had been sitting in a corner with a bottle of beer – more like a crate of beer and a bottle of vodka – Jonas had been slightly tipsy and decided to tell them about this piece of disgusting, bubbling goop his mom had stored in their fridge. And that was not all. The revolting thing apparently had a name: Herman.

Carlos had suggested they should slap a tie and some slacks on the thing to make it more true to its name. Abdi had started musing on the thing’s etymology, and the others had quickly left him to his own devices. While he was babbling about root words – which Matteo had already pushed far to the back of his mind – Matteo had wondered out loud if the thing was in fact edible. And then they’d gotten the idea to make an actual cake 

That’s how they had ended up in the present situation. 

Jonas pushes the piece of Herman into his hands before even greeting him.

“Yo, Luigi!”

Jonas hugs him, and Matteo stands there a bit stiffly with the piece of sourdough in his right hand.

“How’s it going, man?”

“Good, and you?”

“Dude, I really had to plead with my mom to get her to give me that thing. I swear, if your mom hadn’t wanted a piece too…”

Jonas takes off his coat and hangs it on top of Hans’ fur coat, while Matteo closes the door behind him with one hand. Matteo really likes Jonas’ mom, but she can be quite strict.

“Did she think we were going to smoke it or something?

Jonas loudly laughs.

“No dude, but actually, with how you smell sometimes…”

Matteo aims a kick at him.

“Joking. She just didn’t want us to kill her baby or whatever.”

“You sure would. I, on the other hand, actually know how to boil water.”

“Fuck man, that was one time, alright? And you didn’t know how to work that water kettle either. How else would I have gotten my apple tea?”

“You were just fucking high and took hot water from the tap. Who does that?”

“Whatever. Show me to your kitchen.”

Matteo snorts. Jonas knows perfectly well where their kitchen is, but he looks a bit gutted so Matteo lets his next quip slide. He knows that as soon as David joins them and Jonas gets going with the highlights of their time from kindergarten up to secondary school, he’ll be the one who’s groaning. 

They safely store Herman in the fridge. Matteo even gives his lid an affectionate pat; Jonas gags in fake disgust behind him. 

Neither of them thought about bringing beer, but luckily, Hans still has some in the fridge. Matteo quickly takes out three bottles. David joins them a moment later, freshly showered, and Matteo can’t control himself, has to lean against his boyfriend and breathe in his new but still familiar smell. Jonas winks happily at them and flicks open the beer bottles. Matteo takes David’s hand and in the other a bottle to clink them together with David’s and Jonas’.

“To Herman!”

That’s when Hans enters the kitchen, his fur coat draped over his shoulders.

“Who’s Herman? Jonas, do you have a secret lover?”

Before they can enlighten him, he looks around and shakes his head at the sight of their opened beer bottles. 

“Children, those beers are mine. I wanted to serve them at my next board game evening.”

This is the second time in the last few weeks that Matteo has taken Hans’ beer without asking. David and Jonas are also looking at Hans guiltily.

“Uh, if you want, I could make spaghetti bolognese for you, grandma’s recipe, y’know,” Matteo mumbles. 

David clears his throat.

“I, uh, could proofread that essay your were talking about.”

Hans softly shakes his head and pats both of their cheeks. 

“You’re sweethearts. I’ll hold you both to that. But now, I have a rendez-vous at a café. Unsure when I’ll be back, ciao!”

He winks cheekily and with a swish of his fur coat, he’s out the door.

After that short intermezzo, they finish their beers without a lot of talking. They have to get started on the cake soon. Matteo puts his bottle down with a throaty _aah_ and leaves to look for his baking sweater.

At the back of his closet, there is a green sweater that is quite frayed at the sleeves. Once, in days long past, the sweater belonged to Jonas. Back in tenth grade, his dad had developed an obsession with ordering stuff online and had somehow managed to order ten hoodies without checking the return policy. Jonas had worn the sweater several times before he had let Matteo borrow it on one of his sleepovers at _casa_ Augustin. Things at home had already been well on their way to falling apart and the sweater proved to be Matteo’s safe haven – along with a few other clothing items that had quietly wandered into his closet and only lost their Jonas-smell after several wash days. Jonas had never asked for his stuff back; he’d just quirked a brow every time he spotted his own clothes on Matteo. 

The sweater is not in its usual spot in the closet. Had he worn it recently after all? Although, he really only uses it for baking or cleaning, along with an old pair of sweatpants and his panther uggs – his mom made him take them after she bought the wrong size at ALDI. He wears them for a reason: who wants to wash cleaning product or flour out of their wool sweater?

After going through what feels like half of the stuff he owned, he gives up and goes back to the kitchen from where he can hear David’s and Jonas’ loud laughter. The latter is showing David something on his phone and wiping tears from his eyes. Matteo slumps his shoulders; David slides an arm around Matteo and he lets himself lean against David. 

“Have you seen my sweater?” he mumbles into David’s neck.

“No, I haven’t.”

Matteo looks at the fabric of the sweater David’s wearing. It’s green.

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

David acts all surprised: “What? It was this one you meant when you were talking about your sweater? I took it because you never wear it anyway.”

Matteo is about to argue how important that sweater is to him when Jonas interrupts: “Actually, that’s my fucking sweater. Luigi has just had an extended loan on it since tenth grade.”

“Sorry, man.”

“Yeah man, hope you’re not mad that I’m wearing it now.”

“Guys, I was joking. It’s too small for me anyway. Feast your eyes on these guns, my dudes.”

Jonas puffs out his chest and Matteo thinks he has some similarities with the fluffed-up rooster that used to roam his grandma’s garden. David hiccups with laughter next to him.

“Looks like David is making this cake now. He’s wearing the baking sweater after all,” Matteo quips.

David looks at Matteo, affronted.

“What? I thought I was only going to play DJ during this thing.”

“Well, you’d rather keep on the baking sweater, so–”

Matteo isn’t even able to finish his sentence; David rips the sweater off with one arm and quickly pushes his T-Shirt down with the other. Then, he throws the thing at Matteo’s head and demands he give him his own sweater in return. Matteo sticks out his tongue at him, but relents and takes off his sweater. 

“Hey, I’m still here. Just let me leave you two alone, alright? I don’t need to be here to witness Herman getting butchered.”

Jonas is covering his eyes with his hands, probably so they have some privacy.

“Oh no, you’re staying. You spent the most time with him, after all.”

David has put on Matteo’s sweater – he always looks good in Matteo’s clothes. He pulls the green sweater over his own head. 

Next to him, David hums.

“Guys, I mean, I’m really bad at baking, almost burned down the house and all that, but don’t you need, like, other ingredients? We have Herman chilling in the fridge, but–”

True. Fuck. Hans made bread yesterday. Matteo checks the recipe and starts gathering the ingredients. Sugar, eggs, baking powder, hazelnuts, raisins, cinnamon–

Something’s missing.

“Shit. No flour.”

“What’re you mumbling over there, young man?”

“We’re out of flour, asshole.”

“Dude, my mom has like a stack of ten kilo packs. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Fuck did I know my flatmate was going to go all British bake-off in here.”

“Guys,” David says, unable to keep his laughter at bay. “It’s no big deal. One of us can go get some, it’ll be quick. We need it anyway.”

Matteo walks over to David, wraps his arms around his neck and presses his forehead against David’s.

“See Jonas, my _boy_ friend is actually helpful.”

David places a kiss on his forehead. Jonas just laughs.

“Alright, alright, man. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, then. Will be back in fifteen, just so you know. Also taking the spare key. Please, just, put all bits you don’t want me to see away before I get back.”

Matteo winks at Jonas and makes a loud squelching sound as he kisses David on the lips. David pushes him away roughly, but Jonas is already out the door.

“Don’t mind me, I’m already gone!” he yells from the stairwell.

David shakes his head, then smiles wickedly

“After all the stuff I had to endure back there, I feel like I should get to make a wish.”

“Aha. And?”

David moves to the table where he had placed his phone and a bluetooth speaker. He taps something on his phone. 

The first strum of a guitar chord sounds through the speaker. What’s the dude’s name again? Tall Irish guy with long hair?

There is a pull on his hands, and suddenly David’s chest is pressed against his own. 

David can actually dance, does it at every party when he and Leonie do their dirty waltz across the room. What he’s doing with Matteo is more of a rhythmical swaying. To and fro, following the beat of the song.

Matteo leans his head on David’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

_Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We should just kiss like real people do_

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think of Herman the cake? Or the sweater-incident? Are you a sweater-stealer or someone who gets their sweaters stolen?
> 
> I also want to thank my dear friend [@rikotin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikotin/pseuds/rikotin) for sending me the prompt that made this ficlet possible on tumblr. It's from [this list](https://wishiwasanavenger.tumblr.com/post/190047246564/prompt-list). Feel free to send me some as well!
> 
> And thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are dearly appreciated ❤


End file.
